


On the run

by dropshipheroes



Series: 100 Words [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropshipheroes/pseuds/dropshipheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been on the run for two weeks now, miles of road stretched out behind them like a concrete river, rushing them downstream from one coast to the next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the run

They’ve been on the run for two weeks now, miles of road stretched out behind them like a concrete river, rushing them downstream from one coast to the next. The sun is setting ahead of them burning spots into Clarke’s vision by the time Bellamy decides he’s ready to stop, and Clarke’s pretty sure the only reason he does is because his last pair of sunglasses got busted under his knee three days ago when they were fucking in the backseat at a rest stop. She doesn’t say anything though, too ready herself to be out of the car for the night. These days they spend more time on the road than anywhere else, spend most nights there too, so she’s not gonna say anything that might make Bellamy rethink the break.

The town he stops in can hardly be called a town at all, mostly just a strip of worn down buildings along this otherwise empty stretch of desert highway, but there’s an ancient motel with its vacancy sign lit up and Clarke nearly weeps in relief at the thought of an actual shower when Bellamy swings the car into the parking lot and kills the engine.

“Wait here,” he tells her gruffly and she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. The car door squeaks loudly when he opens it and slips out, slamming it behind him before breaking into a jog across the pavement toward the dirty glass door with the word ‘Lobby’ stenciled above it. Clarke props her feet up on the dash, tilts her head back and closes her eyes while she waits. If not for the promise of an honest to goodness bed in her immediate future she could probably fall asleep right here.

Bellamy returns soon enough, the gathering twilight casting longer shadows around him as he hurries back toward the car waving a room key at her with a half smile on his face. She grins back through the dusty windshield, gathering her hair up off her neck in one hand while turning her head to keep him in her line of sight as he rounds the car.

The air is a warm wash against her legs when he opens her door and even the heat of it feels good after the close confines and recycled air of the cabin itself. She stretches when she’s out, sighing happily as the kinks in her back start to loosen and biting her lip against a smile when she catches Bellamy’s gaze falling to the sliver of midriff exposed where her t-shirt rides up with the motion. When he looks back up he’s got a smirk on his face but fire in his eyes that heats her up from the inside out and suddenly she feels a lot less like smiling and a lot more like finding their goddamn room.

It’s on the second floor and as soon as the door shuts behind her Bellamy’s got her crowded up against it. This close she can see the shadow of stubble along his jaw, pushes up on her toes to get her mouth on it, reveling in the rough scratch against her lips, a tangible reminder of the years between them. Bellamy is not one of the boys from back home, not some 17 year old pawing at her in the backseat of his parent’s SUV after prom, and with every day since she jumped in the car with him Clarke feels further than ever from the girl she used to be. When he gets his hands under her thighs, hoisting her up until she’s braced between the door and his hips, she loses even that thought, caught up in the feeling of him hard against her.

Bellamy kisses her rough and she opens up underneath him immediately, something desperate and wanting building in her throat just like it always does these days. Wanting him isn’t something new but she finds she is still surprised at _having_. Her hands loosen on his shoulders and slide up into his hair when his tongue brushes against her own, tugging sharply and making him groan. She feels the sound down to her core and pulls once more at the dark curls between her fingers to hear it again.

He nips at her lower lip in response this time, distracting her enough that she shrieks in surprise when he spins her from the door, dumping her on the bed so that her back bounces against the mattress and turns her shout into a giggle. He’s back over her a moment later, drinking the laughter off her tongue, his hands shifting restlessly against her sides and rucking her shirt up enough so that he can feel the smooth heat of her skin under his fingers.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he breathes out against her neck, sounding half wrecked already. She has a moment to feel proud about that, that she’s gotten Bellamy Blake this desperate without even taking her shirt off yet, but then his hand is under her bra, thumb stroking over her nipple roughly, and her focus shifts. Bellamy’s other hand isn’t idle, sliding her shirt up higher until it’s bunched up under her arms, and when he replaces his thumb with his mouth, suckling through thin cotton, she can’t help the moan it pulls from her or the way she arches up underneath him trying to get closer.

She can feel his smirk against her skin, whines unhappily when he presses it and a kiss to the curve of her breast before pulling away and scooting further down the bed. When she looks down at him his curls are spilling over his eyes as he stares up at her and he’s wearing a dangerous smile, all teeth and dark promises. She has to bite her lip again, this time against the shiver that wants to run through her. Bellamy _always_ keeps his promises.

He pulls his gaze away to start planting kisses along her skin on his way south, sucking lightly and laving over the reddened marks he leaves with his tongue until she finds she can’t fight that shiver after all. When he reaches the waistband of her cutoffs he places a row of wet kisses from hip to hip, tongue dipping below the fabric with the tease of what’s to come and distracting her enough that by the time she comes back to herself he’s got the button and zipper undone and the shorts and her panties halfway down her thighs. He slides back far enough to pull them the rest of the way and Clarke kicks to help him when they get stuck around her ankle.

For a long moment he just looks, and she fights the urge to cover herself, still not used to the way his eyes go dark and possessive, the way she can see how much he wants her just from this. Truthfully she’s not sure she’ll ever get used to being wanted by him, or to wanting this much in return. It hits her sometimes, now, earlier in the car when she turned to watch his profile as he sped down the sunlit highway, just exactly how beautiful he is and just how much she wants him to let her stay.

It’s almost a melancholy thought, because the one thing he hasn’t promised her is forever, but before it can ruin the moment he’s moving back in close, kissing his way past her knee and nosing at the crease of her thigh until she gets her fingers back in his hair and pulls him where she wants him. He chuckles at the tug and she feels the vibrations of it against her clit, her cunt tightening in anticipation. 

Bellamy doesn’t tease anymore after that, his hands on her thighs pushing them wider open as he licks over her fully with the flat of his tongue, making her buck so hard she almost knocks them both off the bed. He smiles again but doesn’t stop, circling his tongue over her clit and taking one hand from her thigh to ghost his thumb over her entrance before replacing it with two fingers. She sighs happily when he slips them inside, loosening her hold on his hair just a little as she rocks down against the feeling.

“That feel good?” he murmurs, pulling his mouth away but replacing his tongue with his thumb before she can complain. “You like that Clarke? Want me to make you come just like this?”

She whimpers, grinds down harder against him when he adds a third finger, fighting through the stretch of it, the lingering soreness from having done this already earlier, pulled over on the side of the road with her straddling his lap in the driver’s seat, unable to make it even another mile without touching each other. The memory of that desperation only drives her further toward the edge, and when he puts his tongue back to work alongside his fingers she can’t help the sound she makes, high and keening and needy enough that she can feel her skin heating in an embarrassed blush.

The noise only seems to spur Bellamy faster though and soon enough her hips are moving desperate and fast against the twin sensations of his hand and his mouth. Then he’s got his free hand pressed against her belly and the way it practically spans her waist, holds her down with hardly any effort at all, is enough to have her sliding over the edge, riding out the waves of her orgasm on his tongue.

“Fuck, you look beautiful when you come,” he murmurs against her thigh as she comes down from the aftershocks. The words are almost sweet, his tone filled with something close to awe, and she manages a smile even though she still feels like she’s floating in a warm ocean and every one of her muscles is lax. 

“Mmmm, do I?” 

Bellamy kisses her skin again in answer, lips starting a searing trail back up her body. His mouth is wet and open against her belly, her breast, her neck, making her nerves thrum in anticipation of the more she knows is coming next. “Very,” he whispers into the delicate skin just behind her ear. “I could spend all night watching you come for me.”

All night isn’t forever, but it’s more than she ever expected to get from this boy. They may be running towards an inevitable ending, chaos and consequences hot on their heels, and he may never love her the way she’s starting to fear she might already love him, but right now this is enough. Tomorrow seems a lifetime away, filled with the sound of tires on pavement and new pairs of sunglasses to break and that edge of excitement and fear that has been chasing around her heart for weeks now. But tonight he is hers, tonight she is beautiful under his hands, and Clarke is going to savor it.

She tugs at his hair and swallows his groan with her lips, kissing him until they are both dizzy with it and his hips are making unconscious, insistent little circles against her own. “Better get too it then,” she whispers into the space between them when she breaks the kiss to catch her breath. Bellamy’s smile is blinding and Clarke is pretty sure no downfall could ever be sweeter than this one.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been stuck for a while. I've got a ton of half written stories, a dozen story ideas, and about three things with over 50k words each that just need to get finished, and I can't seem to actually do any work on any of them. It's the most annoying form of writers block there is, and one that has caused me to stop writing for months or even YEARS at a time before, and I'm determined not to let that happen this time.
> 
> My idea is this: I'm going to try to write 100 drabbles based on 100 one-word prompts before the end of the year. My goal here is just to keep writing, even when I'm stuck, even in little bursts, so length and setting and even pairings will vary (though lets be honest, there'll probably be a lot of Bellarke). Besides just writing, the goal is also to keep _posting_ as when I get to this place in my brain if I sit on a piece too long I start second guessing everything about it (see the 50k word monsters that have been hanging around in my docs for months now). My hope is that by writing in this series when I get stuck I can actually get some progress made on my bigger, more thought out stories too, and if not at least I'm keeping up the habit of getting words on page.
> 
> The word prompt for this story, generated randomly, was SUNGLASSES.


End file.
